Necessity
by WingWoman
Summary: A PostCocktails fic brought over from MTT. She wants to call him so badly but she can't.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I brought this one over from MTT. These are the first four chapters - I hope that I can get the next one up by tomorrow! Please tell me what you think!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

Your fingers scramble to bolt the door and dial the first half of his phone number before you can stop them. Before you remember your friend with the glossy brown hair and the way he had been laughing as they walked out together earlier that afternoon. Before you remember that the swinging doors of the gallery had never been him and the jelly-bean jar hadn't needed refilling for more than three weeks. The emptiness of your apartment makes the clatter of the phone being replaced in the cradle even louder.

"Halpert came on to you?" His menacing voice, the sound of glass shattering glass. Spider webs spreading across a mirror, the mug's broken handle and its strange resemblance to a bulbous nose.

Ringing from the other end of the line echoes dimly in your ears.

"Hello?"

"Hey… It's Pam."

"Hi." Fighting for words from a dry mouth. "Um…"

"How's the party?"

"Good I guess. Michael and Dwight are making fools out of themselves, but that's normal…"

"Yeah… hey, listen, is Jim right next to you?"

"No, no, he's outside playing basketball with the CFO. Uh… did you want to talk to him?"

"No, I was calling to talk to you. Do you… do you think maybe you could ask him to stay at your house tonight?" You almost choke on the last few words.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think he should go back to his house right now."

"Why not?"

"I think my fi – um, Roy might come looking for him. Sorry, I know this is really weird but I just knew that if I called Jim he would – I just thought I should call you."

"Why would Roy come looking for him?"

_Just don't ask questions_, you beg silently. _Just don't_. "I… it's kind of a long story. I told him tonight that Jim and I kissed last year and he didn't exactly take it as well as you did. He's pretty mad."  
"But that was before you guys even started dating!"

"Um… yeah, it's weird. Anyways can Jim just stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah, sure."

"And I'd kind of appreciate it if maybe you didn't tell him why."

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks, thank you so much. Enjoy the rest of the party, I'll see you on Monday, alright?"

"Okay, bye."

Before the line went dead you thought maybe you heard his voice fluttering above the receiver. And it was that small friendly snippet, not the hurtful words tossed at you all night, that force you to the kitchen floor in tears.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Yeah, sure. Sure, no problem. Okay, bye."

"Hey, who was that?"

She snaps the phone shut guiltily, which is ridiculous because really what does _she_ have to be guilty about?

Sometimes you envy her.

"Oh, just a friend. From Stamford. You don't know her. How did your game go?"

"Great actually. David's a pretty cool guy." Her narrowed eyes are digging deeper into yours than is entirely comfortable and it's a relief to look away. "So… are you still having fun?"

"You want to leave."

_Yes_. "No, I just… Michael and Dwight have been acting like idiots for the last couple of hours and I don't know anyone here and… it's uncomfortable." You hate yourself a little for using Dwight as an excuse when after her prank all her face inspires in you is _I don't know you, I will never know you_.

"Actually I'm ready to go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Shutting the door you catch a glimpse of Jan tugging on Michael's arm trying to prevent him from sliding down the Wallace's gleaming banister.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: You guessed it – I still own nothing_

The long ride home is punctuated by lengthy gaps in which only the sound of the motor and soft strains of his mopey music break the silence. Usually you might poke fun at the songs he was playing (your taste in music is slightly more hardcore) but tonight every smile he directs at you is performed with gritted teeth and the storm cloud beneath the surface of his eyes matches the thick fog filling your mind.

_"I just knew that if I called Jim he would – "_ You know what he would have done to. He would have run straight to her side, angry boyfriend be damned. _"He didn't exactly take it as well as you did."_ Right. Because you're cool with it. A kiss was just a kiss, a crush was just a crush. You've never actually tried to punch Pam's face in, even if you've imagined that type of scenario a few times (The parking lot would be the best place to break her nose).

Jim hasn't so much as glanced your direction since you got off the freeway. Even so, when you reach your apartment you give him a goodnight kiss deeper than entirely necessary, trying to push away the little buzzing noise near your ear that reminds you this is partially a favor to _her_. "Do you want to come in?"

"Um… tonight?"

You pull back, offended. On your first few dates it was respectful, polite when he declined your invitations. But his eyes were looking somewhere to the left of yours and you weren't fooled anymore. "Why not?" you ask, hoping, hoping you don't know the answer.

"It's… just been a long night."

"You don't have to _lie_."

"I really am tired Karen."

"Well luckily for you I happen to have a pretty comfortable bed," you whisper, leaning in to place a kiss near his ear.

"Karen…" His voice was a warning, not an agreement.

"Yes?" Your lips follow the curve of his jaw.

"Seriously, not tonight alright?"

"What's your problem?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"I just spent a whole evening at a party I didn't want to be at talking to people I didn't want to meet. Then after you dragged me there you spent the whole night making me feel like shit."

"_Seriously_? It was a _prank_ Jim! You pull them _all the time_!"

"That's different."

"How? Because you're doing them with Pam?"

The cloud in his eyes explodes into drops of acid rain. "Okay, I'm leaving."

For a moment you want him to. Want to let him go home and let Roy beat the crap out of him because it's not your problem. It shouldn't be your problem.

Then his lip splits, a bruise blooms and ripens on his cheek, his eyes become dark and battered. And it would be impossible to watch him drive away. To hell with Pam, you want answers and you're getting them.

"No, you can't."

"I can and I am. Please get out of my car." You stay put, arms crossed protectively across your chest. "Listen, I'll call you tomorrow okay! I just… need some time to myself."

"No, I mean you actually can't. Roy's looking for you."

"Roy – what?"

"Pam called me tonight." Waves of sick pleasure roll through you when his eyes pop out of their socket. "Apparently she told him about that kiss back in May and he was pretty angry. She asked me to keep you from going home tonight, just in case."

"Was she okay?"

_Definitely not the right question_. "Why's he trying to kill you?"

"Roy um – was she hurt?"

"She called me Jim, how am I supposed to know?"

"Well did she sound hurt?"

"Jim. Please. I know that she wasn't telling me something and you obviously know what it was." Somehow his hair, which you had convinced him to comb out, is all scruffy again. _How did that happen?_

"Um… Pam and Roy. They were, uh, involved. Before."

"What?" He glances to the side as you try to compose yourself. "Involved?"

"Engaged."

_Engaged._ "And in five nights, after you said you told me _everything_, you never felt the need to mention that."

"That was before – You know, I really can't do this right now. I have to go."

"She doesn't want you over there. She didn't even want me to tell you. So just come inside!"

For a moment it seems you've defeated him. Every indication given by the slump of his shoulders and his bowed head suggests victory. But then he looks at you. For the first time all night he looks at you, actually looks at you. "You don't get it. I can't… I can't think right now. I can't talk. I just… I have to see if she's okay."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

You shouldn't have said it, you shouldn't have _had _to say it, but it slipped out anyways. And her face, usually hard to read is now impossible to glean any information from at all.

Then she reaches down to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"Fine. Do whatever you want. But if you go then don't expect me to stick around. We're done."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and those words are the most heartfelt you've ever spoken in your life, save for five.

"No. You don't get to apologize. Have a good life." She slides off her seat and out of the car, hands tight on the door as if getting ready to slam it shut, then hesitates. Finally she looks back at you, eyes both softer and sadder and whispers "Just try not to get yourself killed, okay?"

"Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: If I own anything let the magical Creed Bratton pop up on your screen right now and grant you three wishes… nope? Okay, then I guess I don't own anything.

You're halfway through a bottle of wine and another letter to him, lying on the bed in a pair of soft pajamas only dozens of washings can create. This time you've dug out some thick blue paper from the bottom of your desk drawer. The box under your bed has started to look really pretty, stuffed with multi-colored envelopes that are stamped and sealed but will never be sent off.

_Do you remember that time Packer asked me what my favorite sexual position was? I think that may have been the maddest I've ever seen you. For a second I thought you were actually going to hit him. You deserved to hit him after he spent the entire day calling you "queer Halpert." But you didn't. I'm kind of embarrassed that I ever thought you might. That I didn't realize you would never, ever react like that. _

_And you know what? I've seen Roy in tons of fights (most of them while he was drunk) and he never looked as masculine or as brave as you did when you stared Packer down. There was this fire in your eyes I hadn't seen before and when you looked at me I felt tingling in every part of my body. That's so cliché, I know it is, but that's the only way I can think of describing that sensation._

_When you looked at me I knew exactly how to make you feel better. We've always seemed to have this sixth sense, you know? It's been so difficult this year, so frustrating, knowing when you need to hear a joke, knowing when you need someone to talk to – knowing but not being able to do anything. Because _she's_ right there, and for being so annoyingly perfect she never seems to pick up on those things at all._

_You thanked me later that day for letting you vent, and now I'm thanking you. Because even then, when I was still engaged, it meant so much to me that you would talk to me. That you would want, _need_ even, to talk to me. Not brush the whole incident off, not tell me you didn't want to talk about it, but just tell me everything. One of the reasons I love you is because you can always make me laugh, but just talking to you – no jokes, no pranks – felt so incredibly right._

From the distance you hear knocking and can imagine his ham-sized fist slamming into the door over and over again, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and rage glinting in his eyes.

Squeezing your eyes shut you hold your breath and wait for the shouting to begin.

Finally, finally the knocking stops and you're able to cry again, shoulders shaking and tears smudging the jumble of thoughts twisting across the page in front of you. The room blurs and you can see him everywhere, leaning casually against the doorframe, sitting next to you on the bed, smiling at you from across the room.

And rapping on your window.


	4. Chapter 4

She doesn't answer and she doesn't answer as you pound on the door until your fist begins to ache. Her car is parked in the driveway and through the curtains in her front window you can see a light on, but she doesn't answer.

_"What, are you trying to cop a feel or something?" _His rough hands shove you away again, her eyes growing wide with shock and fear, and if he even _touched _her it's possible your head could explode. You jog down the porch steps and around towards the back of her apartment.

Finally you see her. She doesn't look like she's injured but she's crying and you hesitate to disturb her because the same light that's drenching you is caught in her curls and the tears clinging to her eyelashes. But you can't just keep staring at her from the dark. You knock softly on the glass.

She practically jumps out of her skin when she sees you, fearful expression changing to one of guilt in just a few moments. Hands nervously push her hair from her face and wipe her salty cheeks, eyes avoid yours while she struggles the window.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"You called Karen."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you call me?"

She sniffs and crosses her arms across her chest, the window's height making her taller than you for once. "You've moved on."

_If only you could._ "I tried to move on."

"Tried?"

"Karen dumped me tonight when I told her I was coming over here." That fleeting spark in her eyes, that quickly masked emotion, so similar to those you had _misinterpreted_ almost a year ago – how had you gotten back here?

"I probably should have let you in then," is her only response, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and suddenly you're laughing too. "Sorry about that."

"I'll forgive you if you let me in now." She quirked her mouth as thinking, you raise yours in a challenge and her laugh bubbles over again. It cuts through the tension in the air, the shine on her cheeks, a year of separation and anger and pain.

"Should I open the door or are you going to try to fit through the window?"

"Definitely the door."

Organized chaos. Those words describe her living room perfectly. There wasn't much, but what she did have was barely contained by the small room. Watercolors and stacks of paper had overtaken an entire corner of the room, a beaten couch and scruffy chair crammed into the other. Even so, it was obvious her apartment was well cared for, cushions in straight lines, paintbrushes standing tall and proud in their coffee can.

"Um… do you wan t to sit down or…"

"Yeah, sure." The chair squeaks as you sit.

"I got it at Goodwill," she mumbles, her cheeks burning red and fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. And you smile because for some reason she actually thinks you _care_ that her furniture is old or her eyes puffy.

"So… what happened tonight?"

"Karen didn't tell you?"

"I'd rather hear it from you."

Her eyes meet yours briefly, searching. You don't know what she finds but apparently it's enough because quietly she begins to speak. "I just thought… I dunno, it sounds so stupid now but I thought he had really changed. And this year has been so… weird and I really just wanted to start over." Another tear runs down her cheek but you know not the stop her now that she has finally started to talk. "And he made some dumb joke about how I couldn't keep a secret from him, and I realized that if I wanted it to work then I really couldn't. So I told him that I kissed you and he just… snapped. Started yelling and throwing things… everyone was just staring and he didn't even care. They were all watching me when I left."

You watch her sweep away more tears and avert her eyes. _This is ridiculous._ Moving carefully you straighten and sit next to her on the couch, wrapping a arm around her quivering shoulders. "Hey. It's not your fault." Fingers tangled in your shirt twist anxiously.

"I never should have gotten back together with him."

_He never should have been with you in the first place._ "Why did you?"

"I was lonely."

What's left of your crumpled beaten heart finally falls into dust. "I'm sorry," you whisper into her hair.

"Me too." She looks up, salt finally washing away anything that ever left room for interpretation. "Thanks for coming here. You didn't have to."

"Yeah I did."

Somehow your faces have made their way far to close. Close enough that all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss her, to turn the corners of her mouth upwards again, but still far enough away to know that you should give her time. Let her recover. You're locked in a desperate fight with gravity, trying to pull your head away.

It's so much easier to just let go when she pulls you down towards her.

There's a slight thumping in your chest you haven't felt for such a long time. Fueled by her warm breath it grows louder and louder, and your whole body tingles as the blood rushes through it again. Her touch can't fix your broken heart, but she can give you hers, restored, unblemished, and ready to be put to use.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Sorry again about the wait – hopefully the next chapter won't give me so much grief and I can have it up by tomorrow or Thursday. )


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